I, Maximus of Gloucester, to You
There are laws, that is to say, the human universe is as discoverable as that other. And as definable.
The trouble has been, that a man stays so astonished he can triumph over his own incoherence, he settles for that, crows over it, and goes at a day again happy he at least makes a little sense. Or, if he says anything to another, he thinks it is enough–the struggle does involve such labor and some terror–to wrap it in a little mystery: ah, the way is hard but this is what you find if you go it.
The need now is a cooler one, a discrimination, and then, a shout. Der Weg stirbt, sd one. And was right, was he not? Then the question is: was ist der Weg?